Mr Wooster Falls Ill
by Jestana
Summary: Set about a year and a half after Jeeves starts working for Bertie, the latter catches worse than a cold.


**Mr Wooster Falls Ill**

I have always prided myself on my ability to remain calm in the face of any crisis. Whether it be my employer's questionable sartorial or romantic exploits or something worse than either, the most alarm I show is raising my eyebrow and gravely remarking, 'Most disturbing, sir.'

This propensity for calm in the face of crisis has by turns frustrated, annoyed, and gratified my employer, one Mr Bertram Wilberforce Wooster. His tendency towards excitability when he finds himself in the midst of a crisis simply increases my determination to remain unruffled regardless of the circumstances.

However, the appearance of calm does not necessarily mean that the person in question is truly composed. My ability to remain serene and unperturbed was sorely tested when Mr Wooster caught influenza while I was in his service. To be sure, it was not the first time any of my employers had fallen ill while I was working for them and I was well prepared to care for Mr Wooster until he should recover and be back on his feet. The fact of the matter is that only one of my previous employers had ever caught influenza before and that particular employer had died as a result of it.

Being of sturdy middle-class stock and not the gentry, when I enlisted in the Army at the start of the Great War, I was not made an officer. I did not mind because that was the way of things at the time and hardly anyone questioned long-held traditions then. In any case, I was assigned as a batman to one Lord Andrew Dewhurst. A fine man unafraid of battle, he led his men well and both of us survived the war relatively intact. When he asked me to serve as his valet after we had been discharged, I was glad to accept. Not only did it mean that I would be employed, but also that I would continue to serve a man I had grown to respect and admire.

Unfortunately, the pandemic flu that swept the world after the war was particularly virulent and Lord Dewhurst succumbed just days after he first showed symptoms. I later learned that he had been among the victims who lasted longest. I was deeply saddened to lose such an employer and stayed with his surviving family for several weeks afterwards until Lady Dewhurst closed up the estate and moved with her children to her parents' home, many miles away.

Bereft of employment, I proceeded to serve a number of employers during the years between Lord Dewhurst's death in 1919 and the start of my employment with Mr Wooster in 1924. Until then, I had felt no particular affection for my employers aside from the loyalty of a servant for his master. In Mr Wooster's case, however, it is almost impossible not to like him, with his perpetual cheer and effervescent nature. I came to enjoy serving him and looking after him.

In the first eighteen months of my employment with Mr Wooster, he was rarely sick. If he did happen to catch a cold, I insisted that he rest and let it run its course rather than risk making it worse. Generally speaking, he was only too happy to oblige because he did not wish to go out anyway.

On the occasion in question, Mr Wooster seemed to have come down with another cold and obligingly refrained from going to the Drones as he'd been planning to do. Instead, he sat down at his piano after dinner and proceeded to play a medley of songs that were popular among the gentlemen his age at the time. He sang at first, but he was soon coughing so much that I suggested he refrain from singing and simply play. Mr Wooster agreed and fell silent, his fingers still moving on the keys.

As I had done before when he developed a cold, I fixed a hot cup of tea and added liberal amounts of honey and lemon. Though he made a face at the taste, Mr Wooster drank the entire cup that I prepared and thanked me afterwards. "You take such bally good care of me, Jeeves, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Thank you, sir." I allowed the corner of my mouth to curl upwards just a fraction before I took the cup back to the kitchen.

Just a few minutes later, Mr Wooster appeared in the kitchen, looking a little drawn. "I say, Jeeves. Do you think you could run a bath for me? I think I'll turn in early tonight."

"I already have, sir. Everything is ready for you," I replied, receiving a grateful smile in return.

"Jolly good of you, Jeeves." With that, Mr Wooster left the kitchen and proceeded to the bathroom.

I followed him with the intention of laying out his pyjamas for him and retrieving his clothes once he'd shed them. Mr Wooster was unusually quiet as he took his bath, but that was likely due to his cold, so I did not worry unnecessarily. While Mr Wooster changed into his pyjamas, I returned to the kitchen to mix up one of my cold remedies that had worked so well in past circumstances. Mr Wooster made no complaints when I offered the remedy to him. He simply accepted it and drank the entire glass, shuddering at the taste.

"Will that be all, sir?" I asked, accepting the empty glass from him.

"Yes, thank you, Jeeves. Good night."

"Good night, sir. Sleep well."

#

The next day saw little improvement in Mr Wooster's condition. In fact, his cold seemed to have worsened. He coughed more frequently and began sneezing more than he usually did. It took a great deal of coaxing and subtle hinting on my part to get Mr Wooster to eat more than a few pieces of toast that day. Given my employer's normally robust appetite, this was a cause for some concern, but no more than on the previous occasions when Mr Wooster had caught a cold of some sort.

When I offered to run a bath for Mr Wooster that evening, he requested that it be a cool one. Though I did so without commenting beyond, "Certainly, sir," it caused me a sense of unease. Mr Wooster had never requested a cool bath before.

I fixed a stronger cold remedy that evening, in hopes of fending off the cold that seemed to be worse than any Mr Wooster had had previously. When I entered the bedroom with the remedy, I was surprised to find Mr Wooster's pyjama top draped over a chair rather than his torso. "Ah, another remedy, Jeeves?"

"Yes, sir." I waited until he'd finished drinking the remedy before I asked my question. "Pardon me for asking, sir, but why--?"

"Am I not wearing my pyjama top, Jeeves?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, I just feel too bally warm to wear it tonight."

"Indeed, sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, Jeeves."

"Good night, sir."

"Good night, Jeeves."

Naturally, I was concerned by the fact that Mr Wooster was feeling rather warm, considering that we had been having a cool spring. He rarely slept without a pyjama top to begin with, even on the hottest summer nights. On those occasions, he would simply shove all of the blankets to the foot of the bed and make do with just the sheet. He had done the same on the night in question, I must admit, but the fact that he'd discarded his pyjama top troubled me. I determined, as I prepared for bed, that I would send for a doctor the next day if Mr Wooster's cold persisted. This was the worst I had seen him suffer since my employment with him began.

#

In the early hours of the morning, I was awakened from my sleep by the sound of Mr Wooster being violently sick in the bathroom. Rising and pulling my bathrobe on over my own pyjamas, I made my way there and found my employer sitting on the floor by the toilet, looking rather pale and his hair straggling across his forehead, as if he'd been sweating. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Not really, Jeeves," he admitted, barely opening his eyes to look at me. "In fact, I feel bally awful right at the moment."

"Shall I call a doctor, then, sir?"

"I really don't much like the idea of waking anyone at this hour, Jeeves, but--" he was interrupted mid-sentence by his stomach wishing to expel its contents most forcefully.

"Very good, sir. I shall call directly."

The doctor was naturally upset to have been awakened at such an hour of the night, but he was much more understanding once I explained the circumstances.

"Mr Wooster has a touch of influenza," Dr Dobbes explained once he had examined my employer to his satisfaction. "He needs rest right now. Try to get him to drink some water, but I doubt he will be able to keep any food down for a few days."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me if there's any change."

"Very good, sir."

I saw him to the door and thanked him for coming. Once I had closed the door, I allowed my facade of calm, unruffled service to slip away for a few moments. I had grown very fond of Mr Wooster and worried that my care of him during his illness would not be enough, as had happened with Lord Dewhurst.

Such worries were useless, however, and I soon pushed them away. I would not allow Mr Wooster to go the same way as Lord Dewhurst. I would do everything in my power to keep him alive. Having made this vow to myself, I ventured into the bedroom.

#

The next two days were among the most worrying I have ever experienced. Mr Wooster slept for most of those days, but it was often uneasy. He would toss and turn until his covers were hopelessly twisted around him and he could not even move. When this happened, I would carefully untangle Mr Wooster from the covers and his sleep often seemed easier after I had done so.

I took to sleeping in a chair by Mr Wooster's bed so I would always be on hand to assist him. It was a comfort to me and I could only hope that Mr Wooster would not mind if he discovered the habit. I was awakened very early in the morning of the third day by Mr Wooster calling my name, his voice hoarse and weak. "Jeeves?"

I lifted my head from where it had been resting on my arms to find Mr Wooster gazing at me with tired eyes and a fond smile curving his lips. I quickly straightened fully, dismayed that I had been caught taking such liberties. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"A little better than before." He changed subjects before I could ask further questions. "You can't be very comfortable sleeping in that chair."

"I assure you, sir, I'm quite--" I cut myself off with a grimace of pain as my back protested over the long hours I'd spent in the chair.

"That's what I thought." He gave an exasperated smile. "Go to bed, Jeeves."

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not feel it would be prudent for me to leave your side at the moment."

Mr Wooster gazed at me for several moments, thinking. Eventually, he flipped back the covers. "Get in."

"But, sir--"

"No arguments, Jeeves. You look like you could use the rest and, since that feudal spirit of yours won't allow you to leave my side; you might as well be comfortable. I'll probably just go back to sleep soon myself."

"Indeed, sir."

Stifling a sigh, I removed my shoes, socks, waistcoat, and tie, folding and setting each item aside. With some trepidation, I slipped under the covers with Mr Wooster. Giving me a pleased smile that was soon disrupted by a yawn, he promptly curled up against me and went back to sleep. I did not find rest so easily, since it was a most unusual situation, but I eventually succumbed to Morpheus' charms as well.

#

This marked the start of Mr Wooster's recovery. He spent much of the next week either in his bed or on the sofa, but remained awake and quickly regained his usual loquaciousness. I would never presume to tell him so, but I had rather missed his habit of chattering away like a magpie while he was indisposed. I'd also missed his habit of playing the piano and singing away like a nightingale attempting to attract a mate, even if his choice of music left something to be desired at times.

The truth of the matter is that I had missed Mr Wooster himself while he was ill. As he recovered and the flat was once more filled with his good nature and effervescence, I realized that I was more attached to Mr Wooster than I had been to any of my previous employers, including Lord Dewhurst. I wanted to remain with Mr Wooster and take care of him for the rest of my days, if it were at all possible.

I knew I would have to hide my newly realized feelings for my employer from him, which was not really difficult, since Mr Wooster rarely bothers to look under the surface. Although, he was beginning to show some skill at determining my moods, no matter how inscrutable I attempted to make myself. This was an indication that Mr Wooster desired to get to know me, which gave me hope that he may one day return my feelings. Until that day, I would hide my deeper feelings for my employer and guard them until I was given hope that they would be requited.

**End**


End file.
